


Life is strange

by Lilinlinh



Series: Sweet summer child [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Andrew is 32, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Baker!Jean, Blow Jobs, Cake, Chilled out Jeandreil, Dessert & Sweets, Domestic Fluff, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Freelance translator! Neil, Jean is 33, LITERALLY, M/M, Mention of rape and violence, Monogamous turns polygamous, Neil is 30, Other, Psychological Trauma, Retirement, Slow Burn, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, idk - Freeform, jeandreil, private detective!Andrew, what should I tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-09-27 04:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17155508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilinlinh/pseuds/Lilinlinh
Summary: It’s been 5 months since Neil and Andrew’s last season, 4 months since their last endorsement advertising contract ended, 3 months since Neil picked up freelance translating, 2 months since Andrew opened his own private detective agency.Neil didn't think his life could take any turn at this age but apparently, he was wrong.One box of cake from Renee and they suddenly face a whole new challenge that smells like heaven and tastes like sugar-induced hell.-----------AKA: the fastest way to a man's heart is through his stomach demonstration by Jean





	1. Flour

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> First of all, I want to say that I love Jeaneil and then my mind goes "Why not Jeandreil? The more the merrier!" and that's how this work starts.  
> Second of all, it's so hard to write Andreil with someone else. It was a struggle to come up with how that someone else is gonna get Andrew's attention. However, I remember Andrew has sweet tooth so the bakery idea comes up. and then there's Neil, our demisexual with an attitude problem, so I exploit that attitude problem of his too.  
> I tried my best to keep them in character and chill at the same time but my fic is really far into the future so if there's any OOC, you might find an explanation at the end.  
> Last but not least, thank you @IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos for your help. you're very constructive and helpful.

It’s been 5 months since Neil and Andrew’s last season, 4 months since their last endorsement advertising contract ended, 3 months since Neil picked up freelance translating, 2 months since Andrew opened his own private detective agency, 1 month since they found out Aaron’s in the city for his job and 3 days since Renee landed up in their neighborhood for a business trip.

Neil still misses the sport that he dedicated more than a third of his life for. Every time he looks at his gears on the wall, the urge to play is still there but he is satisfied now. Eleven years of playing Exy, all of which playing with Andrew are enough for him. 

They’d made court together. Andrew was next to him when their team beat Kevin’s. Andrew’s palm was around Neil’s neck the moment they took down the last opponent in Olympics. Neil can remember vividly how pride swelled in his chest at the sight of Andrew stepping on the stage in the middle of the national stadium to get his Best goalkeeper of the year cup and the following heated sex. It was _very_ good. Exy burned hot in his chest for years and Andrew was the force that ensured he could burn without worry. His yearning was granted in the best way possible.

It’s time to let his body relax. Exy is a violent sport and his early years of being on a run is taking its toll on his physical health. He is quicker to feel tired after usual morning runs, his joints pop more often than before. Taking a break may be the best decision if he doesn’t want CTE in his 40s. Besides, Neil’s sure Sir and King would enjoy this new routine much better, more attention for them after all.

Neil’s thought is interrupted when King hops on his laptop, blatantly flops onto his hands, leaving a string of spacebars on the half-finished line. Lifting his thumb off the abused key, Neil saves the document and indulges King in scratching here and there. The cat purrs, unashamed of expressing his satisfaction.

Afternoon sunlight glows outside of the window and dyes the living room orange. It travels through glass panels of the balcony door, leaving patches of vibrant color on the floor and the walls. Sir’s shadow dances on the coffee table; he must be playing with some lizards. There is something about sitting on a couch, drinking cold tea in their apartment, hands buried in cat fur in the middle of summer that makes Neil’s heart flutter. He feels awed at the level of domesticity. When he was 16 and afraid, home was the backseats of cars and abandoned buildings. Now, home is Andrew, every single key in his keychain, the cats and his cup of cool tea.

At five thirty, Neil hears the front door open, followed by a distinct sound of keys hitting the ceramic bowl Neil bought for no reason. Andrew steps into the living room, his gaze meeting Neil’s eyes; he nods. 

“Welcome home, Drew. Sir has been missing you.” Right on cue, Sir dashes from their balcony to Andrew’s legs. He wraps his tail around Andrew’s calf, rubbing his head against him. Unaffected by Sir, Andrew uses his foot to push him out of the way, as his hands are occupied with grocery bags and heads to the kitchen. They are expecting Renee today. She somehow tricked Andrew into treating her dinner the day before.

Neil continues to work on his job while Andrew makes some kind of beef stew and spinach salad. After finishing a good three paragraphs or so, Neil feels good enough to call it a day so he turns his laptop off and joins Andrew in the kitchen. Upon arriving, he is wordlessly handed a bowl of boiled eggs with a very helpful instruction “Peel.”

Neil tries his best not to damage the eggs but in the end, he’s certain that there is an average of 5 crescent shapes on each one. Andrew gives him an eye when he retrieves the bowl. Neil is content with observing Andrew’s cooking skill and setting the table for the rest of the time. He might have stolen a couple of kisses along the way.

\----------------

At seven thirty, Neil hears a string of light knocks and hops off his observation deck, the countertop, to open the door. Renee is in front of their doorstep with her signature world-peace smile. Neil hasn’t seen her for over a year but he thinks time hasn’t changed her much. She is still a sunny woman with the calmness after a storm. Her hair no longer has rainbow stripes, the bleached color is still sticking around tho. Although she said she was on a business trip, Renee packed enough to pull off an angelic look with pure white dress, gray cardigan and a pair of flowery flats. He briefly scents something vanilla from her. He wonders if she’s wearing perfume.

“Good evening, Neil. It’s nice to meet you after such a long time.” calm and collected as always, Renee directs Neil’s attention back to her, still standing outside of their house, “I’m looking forward to our dinner tonight. May I come in?”. Neil’s sudden realization of his rudeness makes him hastily step backward and show her the way 

“Hi, Renee. It’s been a while” Neil says to Renee behind him.

Neil points out to Renee where to hang her coat and leads them to the kitchen. Andrew is setting the last dish on the dining table, he looks up when she comes in and nods at her in lieu of a greeting. 

“Evening Andrew. It's been a while. Thank you for having me tonight.” Renee smiles then lifts up a box she was holding all the time that Neil somehow didn’t notice. “I see you have made quite a dinner. I wanted to apologize for visiting so unannounced so I brought some desserts” 

Andrew eyes it with boredom. The box is a mixture of light blue and bluish grey for a good two-thirds of the top, quickly fading into pale yellow when reaching the bottom third with a silver line in the very center. On it is a name, “ _Les Bords de Mer_ ”. Neil’s brain automatically comes up with a definition, the seashore. So that explains the colors then.

“It’s from the new bakery that just opened around the corner, you know, near the central park” It’s on Neil’s running route, he thinks he has seen some flat being renovated. “ The products there are very refreshing. I even got a discount because the owner of the bakery is an acquaintance. I had him recommend something sweet and he suggested these,” Renee dangles the box a little to emphasize her words “Fruit tarts and chocolate cupcakes”

Andrew lifts an eyebrow at that. He nods and takes the box from Renee. “I’ll put it in the fridge, it’s time for dinner. Neil, finish setting the table.” 

After they have settled in their seats, Andrew and Neil quietly wait for Renee to pray before eating. The dinner is relatively pleasant. Renee complements Andrew’s cooking now and then and strikes up small talks about each other’s lives. She asks them about all the trivial things that are insignificant enough to be shared without worries. Andrew engages her in most of the conversations while Neil eats and defends his food from Sir and King. He doesn’t understand why they don’t target Andrew or Renee.

When all the plates are empty, Andrew stands up and cleans the table; it’s Neil’s turn to do the dishes since Andrew cooked. Renee intends to help him but he shoos her away “It’s fine Renee. Don’t worry about the dishes, I’ll take care of them later. Let’s eat desserts.” Renee is Andrew’s closest friend and he doesn’t want to cut their reunion short.

\--------------

They move it to the living room. Renee and Andrew taking the couch and Neil sitting in their giant bean bag with the cats. Andrew distributes plates and forks when Neil leans into the coffee table to open the dessert box. He didn’t expect what was inside it.

The first thing that hits Neil is the _aroma_. Alluring and with just the right amount of sweet like dark chocolate, the fragrance is a mixture of butter, sugar, cocoa powder and very fine chocolate. The first layer holds four beautiful chocolate cupcakes. Each is pleasantly handful with a generous amount of frosting on top. The twist of the cream is perfect from base to tip, it’s frilly with intangible layers and layers of frosting but somehow even at the same time. Decorated with chunks of Oreo, contrasting silver sprinkles and choco chips, the cupcakes look like sugar-induced heaven.

Andrew immediately abandons his plate, stabs into one, right in the center of the frosting, efficiently peels off it’s wrapping paper. He tears a big piece of the cake, dips it into the frosting, whipping half an Oreo on the way and throws it into his mouth. Neil’s still gaping at Andrew’s sudden enthusiasm when Renee giggles “May I have one too, Neil? I feel like it’s gonna be delicious.”

Neil takes Renee’s plate and places one onto it. He hands it to her then curiously lifts up the tray separating the up and lower half of the box. If a chocolate cupcake manages to make Neil salivate even though he has not so much of a sweet tooth then he wants to see the fruit tarts. Neil doesn’t eat any cupcake because he has a vague feeling that Andrew’s going to stab him with the fork if he dares to lower the number of his cupcakes again with the way Andrew is glaring at him. Neil starts to suspect Renee knows something since she’s trying to hide her giggle really hard there. 

The tarts don’t disappoint him. Under four cupcakes are four palm-sized fruit tarts. They’re all filled to the brim with rich milky white cream filling. Neil can even catch a faint scent of vanilla in the air. Every tart is topped with all kinds of berries. Vibrant slices of strawberries, juicy blueberries, ripe red raspberries, all glazed with some kind of syrup which makes them look almost shiny under the light. Just like those million dollar gemstones. The crusts are golden brown with hints of chopped almond.

Neil is patient enough to use his plate and fork. He puts one onto his plate and slowly uses the fork to cut a piece off, carefully choosing the part that has all kinds of fruit. 

One bite into it and flavors explode in his mouth. The crunchiness of the shell is followed by a sweet taste of toasted almond and a pinch of salt. He can feel the cream on his tongue. Milky with a hint of butter, rich egg yolks blend with light vanilla cream.  Before he can even think of getting bored with the cream, the taste of berries jumps into his mind and refreshes it all over again. The fruit’s high sweetness and leveled acidity speak for how fresh they are. 

Neil has never imagined himself being completely head over heels for anything or anyone besides Andrew but here he is, stuffing his face with some kind of godsend fruit tart. Andrew seems to think so too because he’s on his third cupcake with a pissed off frown. He doesn’t like that he _likes_ something that much. This is the first time Neil has seen Andrew eating this much in one go and he’s fascinated. He rewinds Renee’s introduction of the bakery and stores the information about it away. He might visit it someday, probably tomorrow.

\---------------

They chat for the rest of the evening. Renee leaves when the clock hits ten. Neil sees her to the door. Before she steps out, Renee turns back, looks at Neil for a moment then leaves with a suspicious “You should stop by the bakery sometimes, Neil.” 


	2. Butter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting.  
> Neil is tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how quotation marks work so spare me, please...
> 
> Neil is very tired and sleep-deprived in this chapter. I tried to make him sound like me when I'm sleep-deprived so if you think his thoughts are a bit jumpy, my job here is done.
> 
> And thank you, @IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos, you are an angel.

Neil didn’t have any chance to visit the bakery. 

His client suddenly wanted to push the deadline  _ two _ weeks early, which meant he had to work triple the original amount in one week. Neil was furious but he kept his temper in check because the compensation was worth it. He could always chew the guy’s head off later.

He had to pull three all-nighters and skip his routinary runs. Furthermore, it was his turn to go grocery shopping this week and the fridge has been empty for days. 

Andrew and the cats were not happy. The former grumbled, refused to go shopping and made him eat Chinese for four consecutive days, without any green; the later also grumbled but they opted for pulling his laptop plug off and pushing coffee mugs off the table instead. Needless to say, Neil was as frustrated as they were.

Luckily, the hellish week ended two seconds ago with a click of his mouse. He has just sent the document to the client, plus a relatively friendly reminder, compared to what he has in mind, not to pull the shit again. His attitude problem has improved, see?

Neil groans as he stretches. He can hear the joints of his back popping. The sound worries him a little. His shoulders are killing him too. There are grey spots swimming in his vision when he stands up. Neil feels no different from when he played a full game. A long hot shower would do him good.

\---------------

Neil lies in the bathtub. Having hot water surround him is making his mind mushy. Steam rises from the water surface, thickening the air and disappearing into the white tiles of the bathroom wall. Neil has thought of adding some colors to it, maybe with those tiles that have ice blue seashell art he saw in a store in San Francisco. Neil tries to recall where exactly that store was but fatigue is crashing on him like waves. He can hardly keep his eyes open.

At a time like this, Neil really wants to have Andrew beside him. Another pair of hot hands would surely keep him awake, supposedly in a sensual way. 

Sadly, Andrew is out doing his first big case tonight and he won’t be back until eight. That means Neil is taking care of dinner or they will have another Chinese take-out. God, just thinking about noodles is making him sick. Neil honestly can’t bear any more fish sauce and garlic breath. He needs to go grocery shopping. 

However, Neil’s really lazy right now. A trip to the nearest supermarket will take at least two hours and he doesn’t even think he will be able to remember what they need when he’s there. 

Neil racks his brain for some alternatives in which he won’t have to leave the comfort of his home for more than thirty minute and fruit tarts come up. Renee’s fruit tarts, from that bakery near the central park. It’s only fifteen minutes away. That will do. He likes fruits and he hasn’t had anything fresh for days. He needs those fruit tarts, a sugar rush would be nice at the moment. Andrew won’t even complain if they have sweets for dinner, right?

Determined, Neil gets changed and steps out of the bathroom. Taking his keys and wallet, he says goodbye to Sir and King, locks the door and heads to the central park.

\---------------

It’s six in the evening but the streets are not so crowded. Andrew intentionally chose the neighbourhood for this very reason, not so far from the center but still maintains peace and quiet. They don’t get disturbed by drunk couples on weekend nights and their neighbours don’t question their three in the morning rides.

Street lamps pour light all over the asphalt surface. Everything is yellow and warm. Neil can feel the heat through the thin T-shirt he is wearing, it’s summer after all. Neil cuts through the central park to save time, but still keeps his steps slow to bask in the vibration of cicada songs, letting waves of sound crash relentlessly on the back of his mind. They have been exceptionally loud this year. He bypasses an old couple sitting together on a bench, wondering if Andrew and he will be able to reach that moment of their life where they can just sit around and hold hands till death do them apart. Someone jogs past him; Neil should probably take a good rest tonight and return to his routine tomorrow. He is getting restless just from seeing people in motion.

He turns left to get out of the park, rounding the corner and walks into a broad alley. After twenty steps or so, Neil spots the first sign of the place he is looking for.

Along the wall of red bricks, a rectangular wooden ornate hanging sign pokes out. Illuminated by an old-looking lantern, the illustration on it gradually looks clearer as Neil steps closer. On top of the cursive name Les Bords de Mer is a drawing of a round loaf of bread with a wedge-shaped piece of pie that fits right into it.  _ A missing piece reference? Lame. _ Some voice that sounds really much like Andrew’s pops up before Neil can even recognize it. He rolls his eyes and quickens his pace. 

Neil comes to a halt in front of the bakery; it is smaller than he thought, considering the quality of the products here. Standing face to face with a bay window, Neil sees a wide variety of breads and pastries displayed behind it. In the center, there are bread loaves, round and square, ranging from milky white to crispy brown, put on crates and in wicker baskets; colorful coated donuts, delightful cupcakes, shortcakes and mousse cakes placed on a glass tower. On his left is a basket full of baguettes and on his right is a dazzling macaron tower. There are also sugar cookies and some kind of leaf shape bread hung on strings behind the glass panel, they must be for decoration. Scattered at the bottom are multiple seashells, some coral and starfish ornaments, which pair with the light blue wall just fine,  _ right, sea theme _ . 

On his way into the bakery, he spots a small chalkboard sign placed on the left side of the door. The day’s menu- “Bread day,” it says- and special items are written on it with little doodles next to each product name.  _ What kind of moron does this? _ Neil has to get some sleep soon, his attitude problem is getting worse by the minute, maybe it hasn’t improved at all. Finally, he pushes through the door leading inside, the sign on which says the place is still open although not for long as it’s close at six thirty, that means he only has roughly fifteen minutes to shop.

A distinct sound of a bell dings above Neil’s head. He is only dimly aware of it as he is taking in all the smell inside. Faint sweet aroma of bread still lingers in the air; vanilla and cocoa entangled with yeast. It smells like batches of bread have been coming out from the kitchen all day. Neil would be lying if he’d say that his stomach didn’t grumble a little at the smell. The platform is spacious, the colour of the walls and ceiling are the same as the bakery box’s, two thirds light blue and a third pale yellow. He is secretly grateful for that because the colours are easy on his very tired eyes. 

There is a relatively empty patisserie display fridge on his left, next to it is a counter attended by no one, they must be at the back. Behind them are a coffee counter and a large chalkboard menu hanging above it. Neil waltzes right, where the oval bread table and shelves are. The table is in the middle of the room, on top of it are a few sandwiches and cakes, some are in cases, the others are on trays with lids. Two neat rows of wall-mounted shelves offer loaves of plain breads, sourdough breads, breads with seeds and nuts, under them are a few wicker baskets holding baguettes. There is also a large shelf with multiple cases at the back, most of which are empty as well. Next to it is a double door that he guesses leads to the kitchen. 

A quick glance tells him there’s no tarts or cupcakes. Neil sighs, takes a tray and quickly picks some turkey and beef sandwiches, the shredded kind so that Andrew can easily pull them apart, some ham and cheese croissants for himself and the last two baguettes for tomorrow’s breakfast. He is mildly pleased that they are still crusty. 

Having picked enough, he heads to the cashier. Putting the tray onto the counter, Neil notices there are two strawberry shortcakes and a small chocolate-red wine cake left in the fridge, they could do some dessert. Now that he’s really looking, all the names in the tags are in French with English translation and ingredients listed underneath. He leans down to have a better look at the ingredients of the wine cake,  _ with raisins _ . He’s definitely getting that just to piss Andrew off because damn him for ordering Chinese four fucking times a week. 

The back door opens, signaling whoever the cashier is has come back. 

“Hey, can I have these to go too, please?” Neil points at the cakes without looking up. 

“Sure, cash or credit card?” A level, slightly accented voice speaks up,  _ French _ .

“Cash-” Neil stops mid-sentence upon straightening up.

Apparently, when Renee said an acquaintance of hers, she meant an acquaintance of  _ theirs _ . Standing behind the counter is Jean Moreau, the world’s famous Exy backliner or ex-backliner. Neil hadn’t heard anything about Jean after his retirement four years ago, he assumed that the man was still good as there hasn’t been any death report of him or Kevin’s blackout drunk, well, Kevin’s psycho meltdown blackout drunk.

“Jean Moreau,” Neil manages to blurt out after fifteen seconds of shell-shock.

“Josten,” answers Jean, unaffected and packaging his breads.

“You look fine?” Neil doesn’t know why the sentence comes out askance but Jean does look fine. He is definitely better than the last time they met face to face. Jean has a healthy, slightly suntanned skin tone, an improvement from the dead paleness of Ravens. Most of his scars have faded somewhat, the tattoo is removed. His grey eyes are as clear as the stormy sky. Jean is wearing a white baker uniform. The sleeves are rolled up, which shows a pair of flour covered hands. Jean is the baker of the place, Neil concludes.

Jean huffs. “And you look like shit,” he retorts

Neil is about to bristle until he realizes that yes, he looks like shit. He hasn’t had a nice sleep for three days and all he has eaten is Chinese. There are dark circles under his eyes and the dead-insideness in him is showing clearly.

“Yeah,” Neil yields, “had a shitty client at work.”

Jean quirks an eyebrow at that, he gazes Neil up and down. “Shitty client indeed,” he says after a moment. Jean pushes a bag of packaged cakes and breads to Neil, “65 dollars.” 

Quick math and common sense tell him that the number is nowhere near the actual total price. Jean seems to catch his suspicion as he goes on, “Evening price and last minute benefit.”

Neil nods dumbly. He reaches into his wallet for money, pays for his purchase, takes the bags and walks out. Jean offers him a nod in lieu of goodbye and Neil returns it. He can feel Jean’s cool gaze on the back of his head on his way out.

\-----------------

After Neil got home, he feeds the cats and puts the bread bag away. Getting comfortable on the couch, he sends Kevin a text about Jean’s whereabouts, receiving a “Thanks” in return. At eight sharp, the door leading to their apartment opens -  Andrew is home. Sir dashes out to welcome him and this time, Andrew actually bends down to pet the cat. Neil gets up from the couch to welcome Andrew as well. As he steps closer, Andrew’s gaze moves from Sir to him. He snakes a hand around Neil’s waist, pulling him closer. They lean in for a kiss or two. 

“Welcome home, Andrew. How was work?” Neil breathes out a little to clear the daze.

“Boring,” Hazel eyes flicker between Neil’s eyes and lips “Did you go grocery shopping?”

“No, I didn’t. I was lazy,” Neil answers honestly.

Andrew’s eyes narrow at that “Do you like Chinese that much, Josten?”

“Fuck no, I went to a bakery instead. The one Renee suggested last week, remember?” The question is unnecessary. Neil is sure that Andrew remembers it with or without his eidetic memory. 

“Got us dinner and dessert,” Neil smirks at seeing Andrew glancing at the kitchen. “You want bath or dinner or perhaps me first?”, he teases.

He gets a glare for that. Predictably, Andrew grits out “Bath” and shoves him away.

Neil reheats the sandwiches and croissants while Andrew is in the shower. He pours himself some cold tea and grabs a can of beer for Andrew. They eat in silence after that. Andrew still glares at the sandwiches from the bakery because of his disagreement with  _ liking _ something but he finishes two beefs and a chicken on his own so Neil takes it that he doesn’t oppose much. Neil’s croissants are also great, he eats the last chicken sandwich too. It’s a blessing to have something different and  _ good _ in his mouth after a long week. Neil thinks he can never look at sandwiches the same.

They both decide to take desserts to the living room and watch TV while eating it. Neil idly asks Andrew about how his day was, he tells him he had been following a guy all day and was made to watch him dip a pizza slice into his milkshake. He nearly took out the guy right then and there if it wasn’t for the distance between them. Every word is gritted out between bites of raisin-freed wine cake. Neil laughs at the story; he intentionally mumbles that pizza and milkshake sound good loud enough for Andrew to hear just to watch his eyes narrow. Neil puts his delicious strawberry shortcake on the coffee table just in time when he is tackled onto the couch. Andrew kisses him harshly and deep with all the intention of shutting him up for good. He never does succeed. They make out for a long, heated moment. Neil nips Andrew’s lips one last time before pulling back. Normally, he would offer sex but he is tired right now so they return to chatting.

Neil tells Andrew about the short warning he sent his client, his trip through the park, cicada song, seeing the old couple, Andrew squishes Neil’s hand at this, and meeting Jean at the bakery. As Neil relays his conversation with Jean, Andrew stops sipping his second beer when he gets to the part where Jean said “Shitty client indeed”. He stares at Neil for a long and hard time while Neil just looks at him innocently, waiting for him to say what the matter is.

“You are an idiot” is all he gets. Neil puzzles at his words. He goes through the conversation again to find out what Andrew means but still gets no clue. A yawn rips through his mouth and he says fuck it, he is too tired to think.

Neil goes to bed early while Andrew makes some note for his job. He stirs awake when Andrew gets in bed and relaxes again feeling a heavy arm on his waist. That night, he dreams of croissants, strawberry shortcakes and stormy grey eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, my goal is to update once a month so I'm surprised that there are people reading and remember this lol.  
> Second, I've drawn something for the fic but I still can't figure out how links and tags work on this side so maybe another day.  
> Third, I feel like I should have said this in the first chapter but I forgot. I'm not a native speaker, I have no knowledge of America's cities or states. I just build the thing up however I like so you don't have to puzzle yourself by guessing which city is this. I have no idea either lol. If there's a mistake, I would be grateful if you point it out in the comment. Thanks a lot!  
> And thanks for reading!  
> Have a great day~


	3. Milk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3,5k words dedicated to Andreil sex.  
> You had your warning, pals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry that this late comes out so late...  
> To M, my Lord and Saviour, thank you a lot! This chapter could take one more month without your help. You deserve a gold medal for best supporter and friend of all time.

Neil wakes up to the beeping alarm after a long satisfying sleep. He feels refreshed  despite being in a slumber . It is five thirty. The sun is just about to rise. Light paints the other side of the window curtain orange and grey. Neil takes his time staring at it, slowly letting his body recognize the heat under the blanket, two soft breaths of a pair of cats and an even one of another human being beside him. Andrew stirs. He must have been woken up at the same time as Neil. 

“Neil. Get up or turn the alarm off.” Neil groans and gets up. 

He totters to the closet to get changed in the dimly lit room. He doesn’t bother with the light, having had many years to memorize his way around the room. Andrew watches him get dressed with half-lidded eyes. They follow Neil until he is finished and finally close when he is bidden goodbye and Neil slips out of the room.

\--------------------

There is hardly anyone outside this early in the morning. The sun is barely up, leaving the sky grey. Neil takes a deep breath, freshens himself up with the rare cool air of a summer morning. He loves early mornings like this when he can enjoy the world all by himself, doing things such as running like someone is after him without being seen as a madman. Old habits die hard. Neil starts stretching thoroughly; he planned to sprint for at least a half of his route.

He goes easy for the first quarter. Jogging at a leisure pace, his body shakes with every bounce. The vibration passes from his feet up to his calves, thighs and finally to his chest, shrugging the last seven days’ fatigue off his mind bit by bit.  With every step taken, gravitation matters less and less. His body feels lightsome; trees and houses flowing faster and faster until they are nothing but a mere smudge. 

By the time he reaches his one-quarter mark, Neil is already sprinting for a good distance. Heartbeat running wild, his calves and thighs burn deliciously. Blood rushes through his veins and air is sucked in in exchange with hot breath being let out. Neil feels more alive than ever.

Soon, the central park enters his vision, signaling he has achieved half of his goal. Neil runs into it and all kinds of distractions greet him there. He is more than ready to let them have his attention, snapping at every chirp of birds, every rustle of branches and bushes. Neil counts the number of squirrels he sees, nods at fellow joggers, takes a water break by the lake on the other side of the park before he resumes dashing, scaring the swans feeding there.

On his way back, he spots a pastel blue window at the edge of his vision. It’s Jean’s bakery. A silhouette walking back and forth on the other side, carrying crates of bread. Neil still has two baguettes at home so there’s no need to stop by. Maybe next time. He wonders if Jean has made more tarts and cupcakes today and there will be fruit tarts when the time comes.

\-------------------------------------

When Neil gets home, Andrew is already up. Toasting slices of bread on a pan, he places two plates on the counter with King on his left shoulder. Neil’s heart swells because he knows exactly how the cat got there. How could he not kiss Andrew after seeing him like that?

Neil closes the distance between them in three strikes, making sure to make noise to give Andrew a warning. However, before he can reach him, a spatula materializes right in front of Neil, threatening to flatten his nose.

“If you dare touching me with that disgusting sweat-drenched body of yours, Neil.” He growls without looking back. 

“Morning to you too, Andrew,” Neil scoffs. 

Andrew can hear fondness behind the fake exasperation. He doesn’t need to turn back to know there is a quirk on the corner of Neil’s lips and he hates it. He waves the spatula into the general direction of the bathroom, wanting the fucker to leave him alone.

Although Neil has been by Andrew’s side for years, there are still parts of his brain that still don’t believe what he sees, what he  _ feels _ . A decade has passed and it still takes time for him to comprehend all these weird chemical reactions inside the fucked up brain of his. And the worst of it all is that Neil  _ knows _ . He knows how much Andrew struggles and accepts it without a word. Always the patient one, yet, so hot-headed when diving face first into Andrew's mess.

A plate with a stack of toast is waiting on the table by the time Neil gets out of the shower. Andrew is halfway through his third slice, folding it in half and tearing it bit by bit. Neil smooches Andrew on the face before getting into his seat. The latter grumbles and flicks a piece of bread at his face. Neil laughs and starts to dig into his share.

Jam and peanut butter toast is such a classic breakfast. Neil reaches for the peanut butter jar by Andrew’s side, and scoops up an amount that would easily cover one and a half slices of toast. Then he licks the butter right off the spoon. One long sensual stroke starting along the rim, the tip of his tongue sweeps some butter off the spoon and brings it into his mouth. He then licks his lips just for good measure. Opposite him, Andrew growls, but Neil ignores him in favor of biting off a piece of his toast. 

“Neil,” Andrew spits out. Neil looks up into Andrew’s eyes. They glow with something fierce, on which reflects Neil's own playfulness. He then smirks, for the sake of seeing Andrew’s pupils dilate. They zero in on his eyes, blow wide, then narrow at his lips.

Andrew flatly drops the half-eaten bread onto his plate. Neil was so lost in hazels that Andrew moving right in front of Neil catches him by surprise. A strong palm lands on his shoulder and pins him almost immediately to the chair. Andrew's face gets closer and Neil spontaneously tilts his head up.

“Stop that,” Andrew says into Neil’s mouth. He doesn't say what.

“Make me-” Neil doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Andrew does exactly that. 

His chapped lips crash onto Neil’s. Neil smells the shaving cream they share before tasting Andrew’s tongue. It sweeps his front teeth waiting for Neil to slacken his jaw. They have long passed the yes or no phase. It took years of mapping each other out in dark rooms for them to descend to this very moment of making out without a word asked. Neil didn’t mind how long it took or how many rules he must follow, as long as he gets to be with Andrew.

Their tongues collide, both immediately finding each other's sensitive spot. Andrew’s tongue flits across the roof of Neil’s mouth as if he hasn’t done it a million times before; Neil licks the underside of his tongue and makes Andrew retract, catching Neil’s with his own. For a heated moment, they bend, thrust, suck and pull. No one wants to be the first to breathe, but eventually, Andrew sucks in and Neil breathes out. They give each other a look, Neil’s hair having been tousled wildly, and Andrew is looking equally disheveled in his crumpled shirt, Neil’s fists still clenching the fabric. Regardless of the disarranged stage, they dive in again, start doing what Nicky once called the snake dance, which has not made a sense to Neil since. A sharp pain on his lower lip quickly pulls Neil back to reality. Andrew is frowning above him. “Neil, focus.”

He looks up, “My bad. Andrew.”

“What?”

“Snake dance.” Neil regrets saying it as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Andrew goes still for three comical seconds. By the look on his face, realization hits him at last. He proceeds to shove himself away from Neil and gives him a long, hard, judgemental look as if he was saying  _ I can not believe you called our first make-out session in weeks snake dancing, despite the fact that you are fluent in ten different languages. I am currently doubting your sanity as well as mine for choosing you. This sheer look will be the last judgment you receive before I get rid of your brain, feed it to the cats and kill Nicky later.  _ He stomps off, while grumpily straightening his shirt, heading to the front door.

“Wait, Drew. I couldn’t help myself!” Neil calls after Andrew in vain as a loud bang signals his leave.

Well, he guesses the shopping list will have to be delivered via text today.

\--------------------------------------------

After two hours in the supermarket, Neil has witnessed a dozen of parents ignoring their kids over some stoves, traded a shopping list from Andrew with three tubes of chocolate chips ice cream, avoided three flirting attempts from college students - as Andrew had dubbed - and climbed up one and a half shelves to grab his favorite brand of dehydrated fruit. He is ready to go home.

There are enough ingredients in his bag for a nice sandwich; Neil wants to finish the leftover bread before it goes stale. He comes home to two yowling cats demanding for the newly purchased cans of tuna. Neil honestly questions how they know that there is cat food inside.

He is bullied into opening a pack of cat snack before being released to make his own lunch. Neil makes himself an avocado sandwich with a side dish of salted French fries. He snaps a picture to Andrew and receives a “veggie junky” and a photo of a giant sundae with Andrew’s co-workers looking skeptical in the background in return. For the rest of the day, he does all the missed out cleaning, which involves lots of cat fur, then plays with said cats and makes them shed even more. He also picks up some minor requests from clients to kill time.

As usual, Andrew opens the door at eight sharp. Neil welcomes Andrew in a pastel orange frilly apron, a present from Nicky, snickered at by all the Foxes when received. Andrew looks so done with him that Neil thinks he overstepped for a moment but still, Andrew says “I'm home.” and he knows they are good. Dinner flows by pleasantly, and by eleven, Neil and Andrew are having their night smoke and get ready for bed.

Andrew stubs out his cigarette after a long drag, stands up and leaves. He doesn't bother waiting for Neil, but he follows him anyway. Before closing the bedroom door,  Neil makes sure to keep the cats outside.

Andrew has settled first when Neil turns around. He puts sheaths under each of their pillows, a ritual from which both of them take reassurance. However, Neil gently takes the sheath under his out and puts it onto the bedside table. Andrew's eyes follow the movement of his hand, slowly moving to his face in unasked question.  _ What are you planning? _

Neil swallows. He thinks about the little stuff he left here and there when cleaning. He pushes one knee onto the bed and leans in, making it creak. “Hey,” lame as ever, he said.

“Let's make up.” Neil puts another hand near Andrew's. 

An eyebrow is quirked up,  _ what for? _

Neil doesn't answer. He looks at Andrew's lips long enough for him to understand. Then it's Andrew who sits up to meet Neil's lips. He brings a warm hand to Neil's nape, pulling him in. Bit by bit, Neil wordlessly leaves all control to Andrew.

He pulls the front of his shirt and Neil falls onto the bed without resistance. Hazel eyes bore into Neil's ice-blue ones, waiting.

“Yes, Drew.” Stopping is an option, but Neil doesn't even think about it.

Andrew twitches. He huffs before he leans down and latches onto Neil’s neck. Hot mouth sucking hickeys and likely pieces of his soul from the base up, Neil lets out breathy gasps, encouraging Andrew's every movement. He tastes like Neil's favorite cigarette brand. Andrew's warmth is radiating above him; his back makes a beautiful arch. Someone growls, it's almost animalistic. Neil feels the danger of the familiar unknown force, pulling him in and apart, but hell if he cares. His hands find their way to Andrew's shoulders, holding tight. Lips stop just behind Neil's ear. A deep hoarse voice whispers “Shirt.” 

Neil fumbles to get Andrew's off, but he can't seem to control his hands well. He keeps failing and Andrew does not cooperate at all. Somewhere to his left, Andrew scoffs, “Idiot, I mean yours.”

“Oh,” Neil's face is combusting. Fuck, why can't he stop making a fool of himself in moments like this? Nonetheless, Andrew relieves him from the shame as he starts undressing them both. 

He efficiently strips Neil from his shirt then works on his own. Neil's breath is caught at the sight in front of his eyes. Andrew is still kneeling over him, knees on both sides, giving Neil a full view of the dent in his pants. He slips a hand under the black hem of his shirt, pulling it up in one swift motion, showing  _ fine _ abs and glorious packs. Andrew is fair and the black shirt contrasts with skin in all the right ways. He pulls it over his head, making the perfectly sculptured muscles pull and flex. “Looking your fill, Josten?”

Neil smirks, “Yes, it's quite satisfying.”

Andrew quirks an eyebrow. Neil sits up, making Andrew fall back a little. He brings his mouth up, stopping just above Andrew's collarbone. “Can I?”

Andrew nods. Neil leans in and works on his neck junction. He plants a trail of small kisses with nibbles in between onto the soft skin, sucking hard where he knows would make Andrew shudder the most. Successfully pulling groans out of him, Neil backs up, kissing Andrew some more. The kisses are much more sloppy this time, tongues pushing and twisting, full of lust and desperation. Neil parts and bends down to work on Andrew's firm belly. Andrew doesn't make much sound but his labored breathing tells Neil that he is doing a good job so far. He absorbs the heat accumulating under the thin layer of skin, feels the blood rushing underneath it and follows every pull of muscles with his mouth. He loves it when Andrew gets all red to the tips of his ears despite his best attempt to act cool. He looks like a lobster - an extremely attractive lobster. Andrew's stomach pulls taut as Neil licks a wet hot strip along his Apollo's belt, peppering it with kisses. He stops upon meeting the hem of Andrew's trousers, looking at Andrew with hooded eyes. “Can I suck you?”

“Like you haven't been doing that for the last five minutes,” He complains in a husky voice and that wasn't a no.

Neil tugs the pants down along with his boxers, revealing a trail of fair hair. He kisses it just for good measure. Andrew's erection springs free and Neil feels his own reacting to the sight. He puts the familiar shape into his mouth, tentatively sucking a little. Andrew grows, encouraging Neil to hollow his mouth. He does a trick discreetly learned online, rubbing the tip across the roof of his mouth and tongue licking the underside, then hums something along the line of “An-ew oo-ep in-ard” just to taunt him. Andrew down right jerks, his breath considerably heavier, glaring at Neil's poorly hidden smugness. “Where did you learn that?”

Neil lets Andrew's dick pop free from his mouth. “Um, will you get mad if I say Tumblr?”

“Which account did you use?”

“What do you mean? I only have one.”

Andrew stares at Neil for an uncomfortably long time, looking as half done and half irritated as possible with his dick out in the open. “ You used your official account to ask for sex advice on the most active platform of our fandom ?”

“...Oops?” Neil feigns innocence as best as he can but Andrew has always seen through his lies.

“Fucking hell, Neil.” Andrew sighs his soul away.

“At least there's a purge? The sexual contents should be taken care of pretty soon,” Neil reasons.

“At least there's a purge.” Another sigh.

“So...can I get back to sucking you or is your mood completely killed?” Neil jiggles the piece of meat in his hands a little, still glistening with saliva. “I still have some new things and would like to try,” he adds.

“...They'd better be good.” An affirmation is all Neil needs. 

He resumes the task at hands, only swallowing the tip this time, right hand pumping the rest of Andrew’s length. He can’t resist mirroring the movement with his left hand on himself, but doesn’t go too hard, concentrating on Andrew only. Neil sucks in rhythm with his hands. The half-hard cock in his mouth quickly grows fully hard. Andrew's thighs shake in anticipation. Neil retracts before he goes too far. Andrew hardly suppresses his gasp. Neil then kisses along the length with care, gently nipping the blood veins covering the shaft.

“Stop.” Neil freezes, inwardly double checking to be sure that there's no objection in Andrew's tone. He is looking at him funny, Neil couldn't quite decipher the look. “I won't last long with these new tricks you learned, Neil. Dick in or dick out, choose one and get on with it. We don't have all night.”

The panic inside Neil's stomach subsides. He frees himself and Andrew from the rest of the clothes and reaches for the lube by the nearest corner. “There're condoms in the drawer.”

“We don't have condoms there.” Still, Andrew reaches in. He raises an eyebrow when pulling a box of condoms out.

“We do now,” Neil grumbles. He quickly works himself open, having prepared in the shower. Andrew looks almost amused. He sits up as Neil lowers himself to a lying position, putting a pillow under his hip for elevation. Andrew rolls a condom over his hard-on before he pours a generous amount of lube onto it. He positions himself against Neil's entrance, checking one last time. “Ready?”

“Now or never, Drew.” Neil laughs playfully. Under the night light, his eyes glint mischievously, auburn hair messy, sweat rolling over his Adam's apple and dick rock hard. It is so vivid and mundane at the same time that Andrew's heart skips a beat and memory forever stores the image away unconsciously.

Andrew pushes in. Neil's laughter ceases and deep inhales take place instead. Inch by inch, Neil gets more flustered, softly whispering profanities and Andrew's name. He bottoms out and Neil lets out a shaky hum that tickles his stomach. Andrew suppresses the urge to move, giving Neil time to adjust.

“It's okay to move, Drew.”

Everything is blurry after that. Between the heat of sex in the middle of summer and that of Neil's body, Andrew feels like his brain is melting for real. Beads of sweat roll uncomfortably down his neck, along the curve of his spine, trapped between where Andrew’s and Neil's skin meets. However, Andrew just can't get enough. His hip slams forward, tip of his length rubbing over Neil's prostate, drawing moans and mewls out of the man's vocal cord. Neil's eyes are blessedly closed, head pulled back, his neck exposed. Andrew immediately gives chase. He sucks hard with all the intention of leaving marks. He holds Neil's hip in place with one hand, the other finding Neil's dick, pumping it in rhythm with his thrusts. Neil's thighs are on either side of him, they keep closing on him, heels digging  _ intentionally  _ into his buttocks. Andrew snaps his hip particularly hard, making Neil gasp. “Fuck, Drew! You can't keep doing that unannounced.”

“Oh? Do I have to report to you first?” Another snap.

“Fucking hell-” Neil's British accent makes an appearance, a quirky thing that he learned just for Andrew. He smashes his mouth onto Andrew's mid-sentence, keeping him from deciphering whatever the rest of it is. Neil pushes his tongue into Andrew's mouth, hands on Andrew’s neck holding him in place. Fingers forcefully map every inch of his neck, hairline and shoulder blades, pressing in like he wants to merge them both. The touched skin feels like being burnt.

Eventually, they both climax. Neil locks Andrew's neck as he does and moans into his ear. Andrew bites his shoulder in return and refuses to admit that it was to stop him from making a sound, too.

Spent, Andrew quickly gets rid of the condom before he grabs the package of wet tissues to clean Neil. When done, he collides on top of the slob that hasn't moved since he came. 

“Ugh! Drew, don't crush me” he whines. 

“Move then, this is my side.” 

Neil obediently wiggles over onto his side. He reaches for a fresh pair of boxers tossing Andrew one of his too. They settle for real this time, Neil lying facing Andrew. 

“Hey.”

“What?”

“I didn't mean to kill the mood this morning.”

“But you did.”

“Sorry. I'll make up for it. The most chocolatey thing in the bakery tomorrow?”

Andrew knows which bakery Neil is talking about. 

“Fine.”

\---------------------------

A yowl on the other side of the door.

“Fuck, we forgot to let the cats in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write mostly in Neil's POV and occasionally switch to Andrew's for better narration.  
> I'm an asexual demi-romantic fish with troubles empathizing with others so yeah... pls spare me  
> Also, I'm not aiming for poetic romance or undying love stories so you might be disappointed with how mundane everything is, the lack of physical need, fluff, and feeling, which I understand. I go for the blander narration, in which things don't necessarily follow logic or make sense, it just happens, like how thoughts work.  
> I'm glad if you still remember my fic and if you find my 1st attempt writing interesting, thanks.  
> The goal of this chapter is sex, which is a challenge to me (also the main reason I left for months, sorry) so if you have the time, pls tell me what you think abt this chapter, I would be very grateful.  
> Love ya for sticking to this point <3

**Author's Note:**

> *Background info:  
> The fic starts when Andreil retire.  
> timetable:  
> Jean graduated at 24 when Neil was 21 and Andrew 23.  
> Andrew graduated at 24 when Neil is 22 and Jean 25.  
> Neil graduated at 23, Andrew 25 and Jean 26.
> 
> They all played pro-Exy:  
> Jean from 24-29  
> Neil from 23-30 (now)  
> Andrew from 25-32 (now)  
> After pro-Exy, Jean took baking classes and horned his baking skill in 4 years.
> 
> Now, Andreil have retired. Jean is 33 and retired for 4 years
> 
> About the characters:  
> A lot of time has passed, they’ve got time to come to terms with things, learn about each other, get used to having something good and having it forever. Therefore, they are more chill, comfortable with each other.
> 
> Of trivial things:  
> I set their retirement age based on the average retirement age of football and ice hockey players. Some may retire earlier due to injuries (see Jean).


End file.
